


A Few Moments, Nothing More

by mgsmurf



Series: Jaime/Brienne missing cannon scenes [1]
Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Coda, F/M, Season/Series 04
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-04
Updated: 2016-06-14
Packaged: 2018-07-12 07:11:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 14,025
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7091011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mgsmurf/pseuds/mgsmurf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Possible shared moments between Jaime and Brienne in King's Landing (Season 4) before she heads off to search for Sansa and Arya. Jaime has spent his life loving only one woman, yet somehow spurned by Cersei, he realizes there's another woman in his life that's important to him. Men don't look at Brienne like Jaime does. Despite where she knows it all will end, she can't miss the opportunity Jaime offers her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Drink With Me

“Drink with me?” Jaime pushed the door to his room in the White Tower open. He and Brienne had walked together from the gardens here. She was not certain she should be here, alone in his room. 

He crossed to a carafe of wine and poured two glasses. “Seems it's what Lannisters do these days,” he added as he handed her a glass. He plopped into a chair and took a deep drink. He waved his gold hand to get her to sit across from him. 

“They are not happy you have returned?” Brienne sat down and placed her glass on a table beside them. She had known his family was at a loss on how to deal with Jaime without his hand. She had assumed it would fade.

“My father....,” Jaime sighed and took another long gulp of wine, “disowned me for staying on with the Kingsguard. Wasting my life guarding kings instead of marrying and giving him grandheirs for Casterly Rock.”

“He can not ask you to give up being a knight.” Brienne wondered what advice she could really give, or if that was what Jaime was asking her for. 

“Drink.” He waved a hand at her and did not continue until she had sipped. It was good wine. Jaime finished his glass and refilled it. 

“My brother,” he said, “has become such a bore.” His face scrunched up in disgust. “He's got some whore he's in love with, and he has Sansa who hates us, and my father who insists he get an heir to Winterfell in her one way or the other.”

“And you think Sansa is safe here?” Brienne tilted her head and frowned. 

Jaime waved his hand to dismiss the thought. “Tyrion would never hurt her, which is part of his problem. I'd say I should just take him to a brothel and we could both get our angers out.” He sighed. “Except it appears Tyrion is off whores and I'm... very certain I could not.”

Brienne sipped her wine in the silence that followed. “It it not them being whores that makes you unable?” 

Jaime shook his head and took a large gulp of wine. “Because they are not... her.” His face feel into a frown. 

“What of your sister?” she quietly asked. 

“Cersei...” Jaime finished his second glass of wine in one long swallow. “My dear, dear sister, more bitter, more cold, more in her cups.” He shook his head. “She can barely look at me. Will not touch me, or let me touch her.” His face scrunched up, and he pinched his lips in anger. Tears formed in his eyes. “She's... she's sleeping with other men.” His face scrunched further into anger. “I took too long to get back, she says, too long.” 

He looked at Brienne with red rimmed eyes. A tear dribbled down his cheek. “All I thought of every day was how to get back to her. Does she not know what I've been through? What I've done to get back to her?”

Brienne took a long drink. She frowned. “She likely does not.”

“She doesn't really want to know though.” He shook his head. “There's more to it, but... she will not tell me. Does she not love me? Did she ever really love me?” Tears wet his eyes now. “Does she regret what we had and did? How could she regret that?”

Brienne sat silent. Dear, dear Jaime, she thought, because it was incest, because it was always wrong. Even if he loved Cersei, of which there was no denying, to have bed his sister had always been wrong. 

Jaime let out a long, shaky breath. “I love her. I love her so much it hurts.” Pain and anguish filled his face. Then tears fell, his shoulders wracked with them. 

This part of love Brienne knew, the aching love for someone who would not love you back, this she knew well. She reached out a hand and took his. He fell from his seat to his knees before her and buried his head in her lap. His arms wrapped around her waist as sobs shook his body. She felt the wetness of his tears. She soothed down his back and rubbed her hand in his thinly cut hair. 

#

Jaime would have mentioned he cried like a damned woman when his tears finally ended. But he looked up from Brienne's lap at her face and saw such concern his quip about his own behavior stilled on his lips. 

With him kneeling on the floor and her seated she towered over him. Still he had not been as close to her physically since the baths at Harrenhall, something he should not have thought about. She smelled nice, a bit like lavender, likely from whatever soap they'd given her in the maiden tower. It made him want to lean in closer and embrace her again. Jaime swallowed and pushed himself away. 

“Let's go drinking?” He stood. “Ale, at a tavern.” He turned to his glass and found it empty. His head had already grown fuzzy from drink, so he left the glass empty. 

“A tavern?” Brienne cocked her head. 

Jaime nodded and crossed the room to grab and strap his new sword onto his hip. He thought about taking it out and showing her. Wondered if he'd only do it to impress her. A sword he couldn't really wield. 

“You have already been drinking.” Brienne stood and tilted her head, watching as he straightened his sword. 

“I'm not drunk.” Jaime turned to her. “Just let me get out of this horrid confining place for a bit.”

She pinched her lips and finally she nodded her head. 

They strolled out the gates of the Red Keep and into the growing night of King's Landing. Not the safest places these days, not that the city had ever been that safe. He drew far less stares than Brienne. Tall broad Brienne, standing an inch or so taller than even him. She wore a long leather jerkin laced to the top of her neck, a leather belt and blue flowing dress like pants. Well made, but simple and none of it showed her to be a high-born lady, at least not one from King's Landing. 

“Does everyone dress as simple on Tarth?” he asked her in passing. He wove through the streets knowing exactly where he headed. A tavern frequented by Lannister troops and the City Watch. It would be safe enough, good seeing he could not really use that sword on his hip. 

Brienne easily kept stride with him. “Simpler than here. Yes.”

“As simple as what you're wearing?” Jaime finished for her. “No.”

“I do not like gowns.” She frowned and glanced up at the swinging sign above the tavern door Jaime had led them to. It held only two ale mugs, on in red another in gold. 

“Didn't ask about gowns.” Jaime shoved open the door. “Didn't expect to see you in one if you had a choice.” 

He searched the room and found an empty far table. He slipped and wove between the already rowdy crowd and sank into a chair with his back to the wall. Brienne followed with less grace and sat beside him. The table of rough wood wobbled. The place smelt of ale, sweat and vomit. Jaime raised his arm to get the attention of a tavern wench. She gave Jamie a lusty smile and Brienne a wary look as he ordered two ales. 

“Though the one dress I've see you in,” he said, “horrible thing, but it showed off her neck.” She cocked her head. “You've got a lovely long neck.” 

Brienne tilted her head to look down at him. “Men are not interested in lovely necks.”

The wench returned with two ales. “No,” Jaime said. Men like tits and asses and legs, he thought, but kept it to himself. He'd seen Brienne, and she had enough ass and long legs for a man, even if she lacked full tits. “Drink.” he commanded and took a big gulp himself. This felt less refined than the wine at the castle. The rowdy room with armed men made him think about being on the road, out at war. It was something he'd done well once. 

Brienne did as asked. They sat in silence for a time. Comfortable silence, he noted. A few people had noticed him, perhaps her as well. Neither of them were people that blended in. She noticed the glances, whispers, and looked over at him. 

Jaime took another long gulp. “Let them gossip. What's the worst they can think?”

“That I'm your lady.” She frowned and took a sip. That he was sleeping with her he thought to correct, taken what everyone else saw as a beast of a woman as his lover. 

“You're not mine,” he said instead, “nor do you look much a lady.”

“If you do not like the clothes, only tell me so, stop talking around it.” She turned to him with a glare in her eyes. 

“The clothes are fine.” Jaime frowned. “Well made. I really have no problem with them.” 

“I had armor... once.” Brienne sighed and took another sip of ale. 

“A good suit of it.” Jaime nodded. “Made for you, good quality and you wore it well. I had armor too, red with lions and gold trim. Good sword, with the right heft and a hilt of a carved lion.”

“Both gone now.” She pinched her lips together. “Just...”

“That armor meant something to you.” Jaime nodded and took a long gulp. 

“I feel... exposed without it.” She glanced around the room. 

Jaime chuckled. “Armor doesn't really do much to protect you in King's Landing. Believe me, I've spent most of my time here wearing it.” It was that easy smile and a manner of indifference that had protected him, both lately grated. 

“Perhaps not.” She shrugged. 

“My real armor of King's Landing,” Jaime said, “arrogant indifference... is killing me bit by bit. Worse than it used to.” Because showing it as people sneered Kingslayer at his back had been bad enough. “A one-handed old cripple.” Jaime sighed and finished off his ale. He lifted his hand and caught the eye of the wench to bring another. 

“You are not so old.” Brienne frowned as the wench placed two, instead of one, new mugs of ale before them. 

“So, I am a cripple.” He lifted his gold hand. “Can't deny the one-handed.”

“You will get better.” Brienne still frowning took a deep sip of her first ale. 

Jaime leaned back and cocked his head. “How old are you, Brienne?” 

She tilted her head. “Why would that matter?”

“Younger than you look I'd guess.” He gulped his ale. 

“How old are you?” She pinched her lips. 

Jaime took another long gulp. He was certainly fuzzy now, and he could feel the warmth of the ale spreading through him. “Forty. I had a naming day while away.”

He noticed the narrowing of her eyes and her furrowed brow. She looked at the slight gray that had begun in the hair near his ears, saw the age lines through the scars on his face. “A naming day?” she said instead. 

“I was gone more than a year. They happen--”

“Yes.” She cut him off. “It is not so old.” She took another sip and didn't convince him at all that she thought it wasn't. 

“So how old are you?” He leaned an elbow on the table, drawing his face closer. She was younger, and they were just companions so it shouldn't matter how much younger. 

“Twenty four.” Came her soft answer. 

Not as young as he had been worried about. “Twenty four?” Jaime cocked his head. What had he been doing at twenty four? Just starting to regularly fuck Cersei, have her bear his bastard children. An arrogant fool trapped as a glorified bodyguard with only his love of Cersei to save him. 

“Twenty four is not so old to still be a maid.” Brienne frowned at him. “Despite what you were thinking.”

“I wasn't thinking such.” Jaime shook his head. “I was thinking of what a fool I was at twenty four. Besides, I'm forty and still not wed. Not something I plan on doing either.”

“Plenty of knights do not marry until older.” Her words were sure. 

“Until they're too old to do anything but marry young girls.” Jamie sighed. “Without my hand, that's the only useful thing I am to my father, a cock to put Lannister heirs in some young lady.” 

“You do not wish to have a wife and children?” Brienne cocked her head and furrowed her brow. 

“Never wanted either. Why would I now?” Though the truth was the only wife he had ever wanted was Cersei and she would not have him. 

“Well, rightful children.” She pinched her lips and glanced around to make sure none were listening. “You have children,” she whispered. 

Jaime sighed. “I've sired a few.” He finished off his next ale and enjoyed the numbness it was giving him. “Joffery mocked me in the White Tower. A forty year old knight with nothing but breaking my oath to kill my king and guarding doors to my credit, and not much means to do more, especially now.”

Brienne sighed and took a long gulp of her beer. “Does he know who you are?” 

“Joffery?” Jaime nodded. “I'm the fool who fucked his mother to sire him. Nothing more.”

“Tommen?” Concern showed in her eyes. 

Jaime shook his head. “Tommen will always think of Robert as his father. The innocent way he calls me 'Uncle Jaime' makes me want to scream the truth to him.” He scrunched his face in anger, because why was he not supposed to be mad at the way their children were always Cersei's, except when she asked him to do violence to protect them. 

“I'm sorry, Jaime.” And she was, he could tell by her tone, truly sorry for how things had turned out with his children. Besides Tyrion no one cared much how hard having a relationship with Cersei's children had always been. 

“Do you not want a husband, children?” he asked. 

Brienne shook her head. “I wish no husband.”

“Children?” Jaime narrowed his eyes. She was the only heir to Lord Selwyn. Her need of marriage and children were even greater than his. 

“I would need a husband for children.” She shrugged. “Besides, what would I know about being a mother?” 

Jaime pinched his lips and titled his head. “You'd be a good mother, I'd guess.”

“Like you have been a good father?” She shook her head. 

“I've never been a father, not really.” He frowned. “And what would I know about it anyway.” He cocked his head. “You've had betrothals, yes?” While she might not be the most beautiful woman she was an only heir, her husband would be Lord of Tarth when her father died. 

Brienne nodded. “Of course.” 

“Do tell.” Jaime gave a small smile. 

“You first.” She hardened her face. 

“Never really had one.” Jaime shrugged. “I joined the Kingsguard at sixteen.” Not to run away from marriage, not to have to marry a wife other than Cersei. “For the honor and prestige,” he continued with a shrug, “not much of either in the Kingsguard, or knighthood really.” He knew now the only reason he had been selected so young over others was to have taken his father's only good heir from him. At sixteen he hadn't thought about the politics, or heeded his father's warnings of them.

Brienne had not began her story and he gestured with his left hand for her to share. To his surprise with a sigh she did. She told him about her first betrothal as only a child and how he had died of illness along with his family. Of her second to Red Ronnet and his giving her a single rose after seeing her in person and breaking off the arrangement. Such a horrible thing to do to a young girl. And finally to a Ser Humfrey, an elder knight her father had known and trained with as a child. He wanted Brienne to give up her fighting and dreams of knights, to only wear dresses and birth children. She'd bested him in a sword fight and it seems Lord Selwyn had honored her wishes to no longer look for another match. 

“How old was he?” Jaime asked. “A knight when your father was just a boy himself?” He narrowed his eyes. 

“Old.” Brienne shrugged. “Gray. Much older than you now.”

“And you were what? Fifteen? Sixteen?” 

“Sixteen.” She flattened her lips and took a long sip of ale. “But the issue is I give this up if I choose marriage and the life it brings. Wearing gowns, running a keep, birthing babies.” She shook her head. “I decided long ago that was not the life I wanted, ever.”

“Helps that few men find you a good match.” Jaime knew he should not have said the words as soon as they'd left his mouth. The ale had made his words too free. 

Brienne frowned deeply. “Yes. It does.” Her words held anger.

“I didn't...” Jaime reached out his hand and took hers. He laced his fingers with hers. She might have shivered at the affection, or it might have been his drunk imagination. “You are pretty.”

Brienne scoffs. “I am not. We both know this.”

“Your face, can be plain.” Jaime nodded. He leaned in closer. “I've seen you sleep. It's innocent then. I've seen you smile. I've seen you laugh. It's pretty then. Your eyes... your eyes are this sparkling blue. The most gorgeous thing I've ever seen.” He'd leaned in closer still, until their breaths puffed against each others faces. 

“Not here.” Brienne's voice cracked. 

Jaime furrowed his brow. Not here? His eyes were on her lips, wanting to capture them and the part of his brain not foggy from the drink, lusty from being close to her, nodded. He should not kiss her here, could not if he didn't want a mess of further rumors about them. 

“And you're body,” he continued in a whisper only she could hear in the loudness of the tavern, “has all the needed curves. It might be big and it might be strong, but you are certainly a woman.”

She said nothing. Her eyes watched him, her face and body stilled. She swallowed hard and he wondered what emotion she was trying to resist. Disgust? Lust? 

“I've thought of you when I've taken myself by hand,” he whispered. He swallowed this time, trying not to remember his fantasies of her bucking beneath him, riding him with abandon. 

Brienne furrowed her brow. 

Perhaps she hadn't gotten his meaning, so he started to explain, “When I've taken my cock --”

“I know what you mean.” Her voice was rough. Did she do the same with him as she touched herself? And that thought, her legs spread and her fingers rubbing over her wet folds, half hardened his cock. 

He drew back, afraid of what he might do if she stayed so close. Brienne tilted her head and continued to look at him, study him. 

“I am not a woman to be lusted over,” she finally whispered. 

“Good then, because I'm not a man to lust after women.” His voice was steadier than he felt. There had been only one other woman in his life, even when he pleased himself. Always only Cersei and memories of her in his mind. But in the past weeks more and more thoughts of Cersei scorning him bittered his thoughts, and when he found himself hard in the dark of night he'd thought of Brienne. 

“Let's get out of here.” Jaime took a long gulp of the last mug of ale. 

“And go where? Do what?” Brienne cocked her head. Jaime would like to take her somewhere they could be alone, somewhere he could turn the drink and lust into action. Did she as well? 

“Let's go dance?” he said. “To the practice yards, and a sword fight.” He would be no match for her. Even if his left hand was not weak, his instincts were all wrong. But she was never so sure and graceful than with a sword in her hand. 

She considered for a moment. How long had it been since she'd had a sword in her hand? She finally nodded, and finished her ale, then reached to the last mug and finished it as well. Jaime should have thanked her for that, because he was on his way to being drunk and hadn't needed it. 

He handed their tavern wench more than enough for the ales, and they walked together back into the night, back towards the Red Keep in silence. The practice yard was empty, cloaked in darkness save a half moon overhead.


	2. The Practice Yard

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne wasn't sure what she wanted from Jaime. But the depths of desire and lust towards her in his eyes scared and thrilled her. He was lonely and whatever feelings he might have for her had been loosened by the ale. She knew her own distance had been weakened by the drink. But she didn't care in this moment. No man had ever looked at her like that before. Would any man again? 
> 
> She swallowed. “Please, Jaime, don't stop,” her voice a whisper.

Jaime had not been back to the practice yard since returned to King's Landing. Someone would have asked him to practice and he could not let one of them know the truth, even if everyone already suspected. It felt so familiar though, to cross the yard to the racks of swords. His hand grazed over the hilts of the real swords, then the blunted practice swords. He had not needed a practice sword since he'd been a boy. He took off his sword belt and propped it against the practice sword stand. 

Brienne had followed him. He wondered if she had been here, at least to watch the other knights. She handed him a wooden tourney sword. He frowned at her.

“I am still recovering,” she said, “and you...”

“Are a cripple now?” Jaime scowled. 

She sighed. “I do not wish to hurt you.” She took her own wooden tourney sword and backed up into the practice field. “Especially in the dark.”

It all angered Jaime. He had been a boy of five last time he practiced with such a thing. Why did it not anger her? He cocked his head as Brienne practiced a few moves with the sword and took a starting defensive pose. Perhaps a woman's ego was not so easy to anger. 

Jaime hefted the wooden sword in his hand. Lighter than a real sword, at least that might be to his advantage tonight. He swung it and it made him feel whole again in a way he had not known he'd missed. 

“Ready?” she asked. 

Jaime took a moment to consider how he should pose himself. His brain was too fuzzy with drink to think about which direction he needed to turn. He nodded and stepped forward to take the first strike. 

So they danced, her with graceful strikes and blocks and parries, and him fumbling wrong turns and weak moves. She held back considerably, and would later say it was her injury, while in truth it was for his ego. He thought it would bother him more being so badly beaten, but with Brienne it did not. They worked up a sweat in the night as the moon drifted higher overhead and the night chilled further. Finally perhaps she tired enough, he sobered just enough to fumble less, and he fought her back against one of the side posts. 

Brienne still bested him in the end. She blocked his last strike and used her strength to strip away his sword from the tired muscles of his left hand. Her wooden sword went to his throat, and Jaime stepped into her. Her back hit the wooden pole, his body covered hers, the smooth wood of the sword tight at his throat. 

“Have you ever been properly kissed, Brienne?” he asked. His voice rough. 

Brienne shook her head. “Are you an expert at kissing?” Her words were bolder than he would have thought. 

Jaime shook his head. “No.” For the only person he'd kissed was Cersei. “Could I kiss you, properly?”

Brienne furrowed her brow. He felt her chest heaving with breath against his own. Was her pulse pounding as badly in her ears as his? Her heart beating as frantically in her chest? “Why do you ask? You could just kiss.” Again her words were much more clear than he felt. 

Jaime furrowed his brow. Why did he not just kiss her? He angled his head. Licked his lips. Watched the desire grow in her brilliant blue eyes. “Because... I need to know you feel this too,” he finally managed. He needed to know there was something there on both their parts. Not just the drink and the fighting of tonight. 

She swallowed and nodded. Her eyes fell to his lips. She pulled the sword from between them and dropped it. Her other hand went to his lower back and pulled them closer. 

“Kiss me, Jaime,” she finally whispered. 

So he did. It was awkward at first. Angled wrong, lips clashing more than blending, like Brienne trying to manage court life. But, then he shifted, or she did. Her lips parted and let his tongue dart into her mouth. This was better, much better. Jaime used his gold hand to pull hold her against him as desire thundered through him, hardened his cock against her thigh. 

#

The kiss grew more natural, more sure. It took Brienne's breath away and warmed her insides, because no she had not ever been properly kissed, and most surely not properly kissed by a boy or man she had feelings for. 

Jaime shifted his hips again and Brienne stilled as she recognized his cock against her thigh. “Jaime?” she opened her eyes. He stared at her jerkin where his hand fought with the laces at her throat. “Was that...? Is that...?” she asked. 

He looked at her now, his eyes dilated with lust and a smirk on his lips. He shifted his hips again. “Why wouldn't that kiss have hardened me?”

Brienne stared at him and swallowed down thoughts of her own insides bubbling with desires. Loosed by the drink she assumed, but still.

“Did it make you wet?” Jaime asked. 

Brienne swallowed again. She didn't want to think about what her desires and that kiss might have caused between her thighs. It wasn't a place she wanted to offer to a man, much less Jaime Lannister. And yet, she did, completely and fully want to do just that. 

Jaime backed up, cocked his head and furrowed his brow. “Is this okay?” he asked. 

“What is this?” Brienne's heart hammered in her chest and she wanted to say love, but likely it was only adoration, one-sided desire. Yet, she could see the want in his eyes, in his face.

“I don't know.” Jaime shook his head. There was such confusion in his face. Sure and bold Jaime looking almost like a green boy with a crush. He reached up his hand and cupped her cheek. Then his fingers went back to the laces at her jerkin. 

“What are you doing?” she asked. 

“Trying to see your beautiful neck.” His fingers didn't have the dexterity to manage the laces and likely his hand was tired from having used it to fight. 

“It's just a neck.” Brienne gave her head a slight shake and undid the top of the jerkin herself, then the blue tunic underneath. Because it was just a neck, nothing more. And he had once seen so much more. 

He smiled as her fingers revealed her pale flesh. When she finished and opened her clothing to show her neck, and only her neck, Jaime stepped forward. His lips kissed her collarbone and then up her neck until his nose buried in her hair. How did he make that so moving? Because the nervous desire from before had returned to her insides. 

“Just a neck.” He whispered a chuckle into her ear. “Still think that, Brienne?”

She didn't give him a reply. Instead she raised a hand to his short hair and grabbed enough to pull his lips back to hers. This time she captured his lips with more sureness than she felt inside. She felt a silly girl with a crush, but her body was telling her she was much nearer a grown woman with real desires. Jaime groaned into her mouth and it left her breathless. 

Their bodies again rested flush against each other, but their hips had shifted. When Jaime moved his hips he rubbed his hardened cock against her sex. Brienne gasped. A smirk tugged at Jaime's lips as he pulled his hips away and thrust back between her legs. If there was question before about how wet she might be, she had none now. 

Jaime thrust again. Brienne found her hands gripping the tight muscle of his ass. With Jaime's next thrust, her hips meet his and her hands pulled him even closer. Oh, how she wanted his hard cock not against her but inside her. Part of her wanted to part her legs and let him take her, give up her maidenhead to him here in this practice yard. 

Jaime pulled his upper body away, his hips paused against her. “Brienne?” His voice was breathless. He furrowed his brow. “We shouldn't.”

“Don't stop.” Her words surprised her, and him too she saw. He pulled back further, his head cocked and brow more furrowed. 

Brienne wasn't sure what she wanted from him, not fully. But the depths of desire and lust towards her in his eyes scared and thrilled her. He was lonely and whatever feelings he might have for her had been loosened by the ale. She knew her own distance had been weakened by the drink. But she didn't care in this moment. No man had ever looked at her like that before. Would any man again? 

She swallowed. “Please, Jaime, don't stop,” her voice a whisper. 

Jaime still paused. He seemed to actually shiver in her arms. His hand snaked between them and under her jerkin. He loosened the laces of her pants and slid his fingers under the fabric of her short clothes beneath. A finger touched her nub in the front of her sex. She knew what that could do, knew how swollen and wet with desire it was. But, somehow Jaime's touch was nothing like her own. She sucked in a sharp breath and her hips bucked. 

Brienne thought he might smirk at her reaction, but he didn't. His lips fell to her neck. He'd shifted his hips so his cock thrust against her thigh again. 

“Gods, Brienne.” His breath warmed her flesh above his lips. 

She found one of her hands reaching to untie his laces. She reached tentatively into his short clothes. She had always heard of a cock being hard, yet it was softer on the surface than she'd thought, hard underneath. She wrapped her hand around it and gave it a tug, as she had seen men in camps doing before. 

Jaime growled and thrust into her hand. His own hand turned. She felt his fingers part her folds while his thumb rubbed circles on her nub. Brienne bucked against his hand. Her hand on his ass tugged him against her. Her hand on his cock stilled, but Jaime didn't seem to care. 

He mumbled words into her neck as he kissed her there. They bucked and thrust, their movements frantic. Brienne tried to keep her moans quiet, but gods, the things Jaime's hand awakened inside her. She felt stretched and hot. Warmth bubbled up inside her and a tension hard enough to echo the slid of Jaime's cock as he bucked his hips into her. 

Jaime lifted his head and the intensity of his stare weakened her knees. He angled his fingers differently and touched a new even more intense place inside her. Brienne found herself crying out with pleasure, shrill and womanly. His thumb slid on her nub, slick with her wetness. Her desire tensed inside her and then exploded into a burst of motion. She could feel herself arching her back, bucking her hips, shrilling with pleasure. Finally the intensity lessened and she felt her release wash over her. 

Against her Jaime growled and bucked. Thrust tight against her thigh, his hips stilled and she felt his seed spill over her hand still wrapped around his cock. He dipped his face into the curve of her neck. Both of them struggled to catch their breath. Brienne felt her chest heaving against his. Jaime's body and gold hand held her up until her weakened knees finally steadied. 

When Brienne returned to awareness of the night and Jaime, she noticed he'd pulled his hand from her short clothes. His mouth licked and sucked her wetness from his hand. As disgusting as it looked there was something very erotic about it. She remembered having heard of men pleasing a woman with their mouths. 

Jaime stepped a bit away. He'd produced a handkerchief from somewhere and was using it to wipe his seed from her fingers. His brow furrowed and he looked worried. “Are you alright, Brienne?”

She nodded. She wasn't sure what she thought coupling was, but it had not been this. She'd thought it'd hold less desire and need, more formality, less improvisation on whatever felt right, more pain and much less pleasure. 

“Sure?” He took another step away and looked down to fix up his pants. 

Brienne did the same, if only to stall for longer. Her short clothes felt damp and she reasoned so did his. “It was...” She had no words to really describe it.

“Yeah.” Jaime smiled big and genuine. Happy, Brienne realized, he was truly happy right now. Had she ever seen him truly happy? “Hard to explain.”

She nodded and swallowed. “I liked it.” The smile she gave him was shy. 

Jaime smirked. “I saw that much.” Brienne tilted her head, not sure if the words were to be hurtful. “Just... you looked glorious when you finished, Brienne.” He gave her another wide, genuine smile. This one Brienne found herself relaxing enough to share. 

He bent and picked up one tourney sword, shifted it into the crook of his right arm and then retrieved the other. 

“You?” she asked, “did you like it?” Silly, Brienne, she thought as she asked. A man always finishes and he always likes it. 

“Rutting with my clothes on,” he softly said as he returned the swords. “You made me feel young, Brienne. Like it was all fresh and new.” She wasn't sure she fully understood, but when he turned back he had that wide smile on his face again. He picked up his sword belt and one-handed fastened it back around his waist. 

He crossed back to her and took her arm to tug her away from the pole. Brienne's fingers went to the open laces at her neck. 

“Leave it,” he said. “You'll have to undo it again soon, when you return to your room.”

Jaime took her hand and they walked like that back towards the rest of the keep. She realized he was walking her to the maiden tower where she had been given a room. He stopped outside the doorway to the tower. 

“Thanks, for tonight, Brienne.” He smiled again. His hand reached up to her neck and then he kissed her. Not a chaste kiss, but the passion from before had waned. Brienne found herself licking her lips after and trying to make sure she'd remember the taste of him. 

“Goodnight,” she said. Whatever could she say? He had given her more than any other man, though she doubted he would repeat it. So she had to hold on to what she had been given, cherish it, hope it would not turn bittersweet as she walked away from ever being able to feel with a man again as she had with Jaime tonight. But Brienne, said none of that. Would handsome Jaime even understand any of it?


	3. About Last Night...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Brienne and Jaime discuss the moment they shared.

Brienne had been avoiding him. Jaime knew that, whether she would admit to it or not. That night of drinking he'd been reckless, even if he had not been drunk by the time he'd kissed Brienne, by the time he'd... What did he call what they'd done? They'd both taken pleasure, but he wasn't sure that was enough to make it sex? Yet, he also knew it was more familiar than he'd ever been with any other women, save Cersei. 

He finally found her one day coming back from the practice yard. “Brienne,” he called out. She looked like she might actually flee, but then seemed to decide against it. 

“They let you practice?” he asked when he'd reached her. 

She tilted her head. “They did.” Then silence. 

Jaime just couldn't bring up how she'd been avoiding him. Couldn't ask if what they'd done had really been okay. Had he crossed a line? She was always so guarded he wasn't sure where all the lines and boundaries where. How does a man with a hard cock and a willing woman not do as she asks? Then, again, Jaime had never before been in such a situation.

“You wish to talk, about...?” Brienne asked. 

Jaime sighed. “Yes.” He thought about leading them to his room, to hers, both would be more private although perhaps it wasn't really what they needed. Instead, he found them walking into the gardens. Not a place he usually talked, but hopefully secretive enough. Although really had he done anything that needed secrecy?

“You were drunk, I'd had too much to drink as well. Is that not all?” Brienne finally said. 

Jaime scoffed. “Neither of us were so far in our cups by then. And neither of us do what we did, or have done what we did.” He paused by the side of a fountain and sat, gestured with his hand for Brienne to do the same. 

She sat perched on the edge and slid her gaze sideways to him. “It was not...”

“Sex?” Jaime shook his head. “No. But it was clearly sexual. We both gave each other pleasure.” He swallowed and looked away from her gaze to concentrate at the pattern of stones at their feet. “I have never... You heard me tell Lady Catelyn that, there has always only been Cersei. Until the other night, she's the only woman I had ever kissed, or... shared such pleasure with.” 

Cersei and Brienne, how had the gods picked those as the two woman he'd ever do anything with? He'd felt a boy the other night. Perhaps it had just been so long ago that simply rutting against Cersei got him off, so long ago both of them were still almost children. But there had been something else. Being with someone new, unfamiliar, someone he'd need to have this conversation with at all. This, this part of it all, he knew nothing about. He had always known Cersei, her body, her moods, her very being.

Jaime finally lifted his eyes back to Brienne. She sat, head tilted down and to the side to look at him. “I had never either,” she said

“With a man?” Jaime asked. “You have with yourself, right?” Surely, she was a woman of twenty four, she had touched and given herself pleasure?

She swallowed, nodded once. “Yes, I have.”

He thought to ask her how many times, and feared it might be rather a small number. Besides, it would seem whatever she'd done on her own paled in comparison to his actions. 

Brienne pinched her lips and swallowed again. “Of course, it was my first time with a man.” She frowned. “It will likely be my only time with a man.”

Jaime furrowed his brow. “Only?”

Brienne cocked her head further, furrowed her own brow. “You love another, Jaime. Besides, neither of us wish to be married. I had assumed... it was to be only the once.”

His eyes widened. While he had never been with another woman, he'd been with Cersei, many times, in many places and ways. He had been drunk enough that when Brienne'd asked him not to stop he'd only thought about what he could give her that would not take her maidenhead. What was he to have done, taken her virginity there on the practice field? 

“I did enjoy it as I stated,” Brienne had continued on. “And I will surely cherish the memory of the experience.”

Jaime just stared at her. “I'm a damned fool,” he mumbled. 

Brienne cocked her head further. Luckily she did not mention again how much she'd cherish what he'd done. Gods, he had not meant that to be her first time, but less for it to be her one and only time. He could remedy, but he himself wasn't sure he meant there to be a second such moment between them. 

“No wonder you've been avoiding me.” Jaime sighed and ran his hand through his hair. “That wasn't sex, Brienne. It wasn't what I meant to leave you with.”

Brienne furrowed her brow. “However, it will be.” She whispered, “No one before... has ever looked at me....”

None she had trusted before had been so bold? Did she think herself so ugly, such a beast, that all she deserved was what he'd given her? He shook his head. “In public, against a pole, me rutting on your thigh and my hand down her pants. That's not what I meant to give you.” It was just want happened, what worked. “You deserve better than that, better than me.”

Brienne sighed. “No one but you thinks so. I am fine alone. Prefer it. Chose it.” She jutted out her chin. For all she looked strong and defiant, Jaime knew it was all a facade, underneath she was just a girl who wanted to be loved and touched by a man, like all the rest. 

“Do you know what should go on between a man and woman?” Jaime turned to face her and cocked his head. Of course she did not. “It's losing yourself in another for a time, finding yourself pulled further than you thought possible until finally glorious release takes you even higher. It's cocks and cunts and legs and asses. Good sex is sweaty flesh, bone wary exhaustion and puts a smile on your face for days after.”

Brienne looked back silent. “I do not mean to give you my maidenhead.” 

Jaime raised his hand. “Of course not. You should give it to someone better. Someone who...”

“Does not love another?” Brienne cocked her head. 

“Someone who can keep you, who isn't sworn by an oath to take no women, have no wife.” Jaime frowned. He would not make her his lover. He didn't have any desire to make her his wife either. 

“There will be no other.” Brienne flattened her lips. “I will die a maid. You do know that don't you, Jaime?” 

Jaime knew his face must show his shock. Why would she do that to herself? What horrible things had other men done and said to her? What had the world done to make her so guarded? He wanted to ask all of that. Wanted to scrunch up his face and demand to know why she would do such. But he did not. He would not further hurt her by doing so. 

“I do care about you, Brienne, deeply.” Jaime sighed. He found his hand taking hers. “I'm sorry...” Sorry, he had not thought. Sorry, he'd been led by his cock instead of reasons. “I'm sorry, I can not... give you more.”

Brienne sighed and looked at their joined hands. “I already know.”

“So how was practice?” he asked, if only to change the subject. 

Brienne looked back up at him and shrugged. “It was fine.”

Jaime scoffed. “They didn't think a woman could fight as well as you?”

“No one ever does.” 

Jaime smiled at that. He'd been a bit shocked himself the first time she'd drawn a blade to strike and kill men. She'd been faster than her size looked she'd be. Her fighting was precise and calculated. 

“You could come tomorrow,” she said, head tilted. 

Jaime shook his head and sighed. “I can't.” He couldn't let them know how bad he was now. 

“You were not so bad the other night.” Brienne rose and together they made to stroll through the gardens. “It will just take time, practice.”

Jaime shook his head again. “It's more a matter of coordination.” He knew from other things he now had to use his left for, he was not made to rely on that hand. 

“You still have good instincts though.” Brienne laced her hands together behind her back as they walked together. “Some times that is worth more than good skills.”

“Often times.” Jaime nodded. It was what had made him great. “Maybe someday.” Luckily she left the conversation at that. Instead they thankfully walked for a time in silence. Jaime thought at first he should perhaps fill it, but decided against it. Mostly he just hoped that they could go back to being companions, or whatever they had been, because right now he didn't want to lose Brienne.


	4. Of Failures and Truths

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> King Joffery is dead, Tyrion has been accused and Sansa has fled. Jaime is a damned fool and perhaps also a heartless asshole as well.

Brienne found Jaime leaned on a wall overlooking the sea. He glanced as she approached and then turned back to the sea. Brienne stood and faced his side. The afternoon light lit his trimmed hair and shaved face. 

So much had happened in the last few days. After that night they shared she and Jaime had fallen back into the comfort of companions, no talk of what they could not be, could not give. She was fine with that. Then, at the wedding the King had been killed, and Jaime's brother blamed. Sansa had disappeared, possibly been the one to kill the King. Brienne had tried to give Jaime some time for personal thoughts, family time. 

“I am sorry...” she tried to not fumble through the words, “about... King Joffery.”

He let out a long sigh. “No one but Cersei is truly sorry he's dead.”

Brienne leaned sideways beside him and frowned. “Still, he was your son. I am sorry for your lost.”

Jaime turned to look at her. His eyes were red rimmed, from tears or anger she wasn't sure. He stared at her for a long while. “I'm a fool, Brienne.”

She titled her head. “I very much doubt that, Jaime.”

“I...” He tightened his lips and looked back to the sea. “I...” He swallowed. “Cersei....”

Brienne found herself leaning forward. 

“I found her alone in the royal sept and asked the septons to leave us alone.” He still looked out over the sea and his voice was a whisper almost taken away by the wind. “Just to talk in private, to be able to see my son alone with her. But... I... fucked her, rough and raw, on the floor with Joffery's body above us. She wouldn't have me, so I forced her.”

Brienne's heart sank a bit at knowing he'd returned to Cersei. Of course, he was going to do so. The location of where bothered her of course. Did they have no respect for the Seven or for the dead? Was this really the man she loved? Cersei had stated as such at the wedding, forced Brienne to think upon it herself, realize what feelings she did have for Jaime. But, how could she love such a man? Jaime looked sideways at her and caught her eyes.

“Forced?” Brienne found herself saying, because she couldn't stand to voice any of the rest. He stared back, worried. She titled her head. “Raped?”

“No.” Jaime shook his head. “She was willing, I think.”

“Yes, think?” Brienne stepped closer. 

Jaime pinched his lips together and looked back to the sea. “If there's one thing I know best about my sister, it's how she fucks. This was willing, even it not at first. I heard her pleasure, know she climaxed.”

Brienne stood rooted. What was she to say to any of this? Besides the fact that he did not actually rape his sister, what was she to say to the abomination he'd just told her. Had she been tricked into thinking there was any good in him?

Jaime dipped his head and rested it on his propped arms. “Hate. There was as much hate as love. Hate of Cersei, hate of myself, hate of how wrong our joining had been, so wrong it had created the monster Joffery was.” She heard the anger in his voice, could see it in the tension of his shoulders. 

Jaime lifted himself up. “I never thought I could rape a woman, but...” He turned and the violence in his eyes scared her. “If she had denied me, I would have still taken her... raped her. I was that angry.” 

He turned then back to the sea and leaned forward over the wall. He let out a scream, and another, low and primitive, the cries one might hear in battle. Grieving, Brienne thought, perhaps this was Jaime grieving, all of it. Finally he ceased. He folded his arms and slumped his head on them. 

“Why are you telling me this, Jaime?” Brienne finally found her voice again. It cracked in the silence. “Why?”

Jaime stood back up, turned and cocked his head. “Because you're my elixir of truth.”

Brienne angered then. She did not need this truth. Did not need to know the man she loved, the man who days before had given her possibly the only pleasure a man would, was such a deviant. 

“I love you, Jaime,” the words were out of her mouth before she thought to keep them silent. “Why tell me this?” She scowled down at him. 

His face went blank and she saw the surprise in his eyes. He hadn't known, possibly hadn't even guessed. “Because it seems I'm a heartless asshole as well as being a damned fool.” He frowned. He took a step closer. “Brienne, I'm... I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you.” 

Brienne tightened her lips. While she could see he was being sincere it didn't lessen her anger. 

Jaime turned with his back to the wall, and leaned against the wall right beside her. “I think you know me better than anyone now. Who else was I going to tell my recent failure to?”

“Failure?” Brienne caught his eye as he glanced at her. 

“What I did with Cersei, how, what, where.” He sighed. “I wanted to, needed to do it, but it was wrong, even if I didn't care at the moment. But, why? Why do I want back in the arms of a hateful woman when I could have...” He caught her eyes and the emotion in them sped up her heart. “I do care about you, Brienne.”

Brienne frowned. Care, is that all she got, all the dept of his emotions would give her? “But you love her, not me.” She shook her head, she knew that, he'd said the same. Why had she let herself be made a fool by him? 

“How would I know if I loved you?” He furrowed his brow. 

“If you have to ask. You do not.” 

“Cersei is the only other person I've loved, and it's always been...” He shrugged, eyes still on her. “She's always been hateful, scheming, thinking and caring about no one but herself. I know she did love me once, but maybe even then I was just a pawn for her to play. You're the complete opposite of her. You, Brienne, are not any of that. Even hate you could not do right.”

“I can.” She tightened her lips. 

“Name one person you hate?” He cocked his head. 

Brienne angled her head up. “Stannis Baratheon.” 

“That's vengeance, justice, not hate.” Jaime turned and leaned beside her on the wall. “All those people who have wronged you, laughed at you. You don't hate a one.”

“Do you think that is easy?” She heard the anger in her voice, the distress. She leaned her head down to his. 

“It is likely not.” He frowned. “You are the most kind, honorable and decent person I know. You are important to me. You mean... a great deal to me. The other night, us... I did mean that.”

Brienne angled her head and swallowed. What were they exactly to each other, companions, more than?

“I don't lust after women.” Jaime leaned his gold hand beside her and dipped his body closer. “And I don't do what I did with you casually.” Jaime paused and sighed. “There has been only Cersei, and you.” 

“What am I to make of that?” Brienne frowned. 

Jaime shrugged. “I don't know.”

“If you care about me, you need to stop hurting me.” Her words held confidence, but was she not still here? She knew he could say more hateful things and she'd come back.

“Yes.” He sighed and took her hand in his. His hand was bigger than hers. She could feel recent calluses from swordplay and wondered who he had been practicing with, even though she was glad that he had been. 

“You're the last person I want to say hurtful words to,” Jaime whispered, “the last person to deserve them. I would vow to never again say or do a hurtful thing to you, but it's not a vow I could keep.” He frowned. “I've been saying hurtful things to the world for too long, and I do so without thinking.”

He stepped closer. “In that Harrenhal bath, I was only half dead because of you. You saw me in my darkest moments. You reminded me I was still a man, alive, with something to live for. You didn't see me as only the right hand that had always done the bidding of my sister and father. And in that bath, I was raw and fevered and you were the only person I really wanted to see.” He shrugged. “And still I jabbed at your failure as Renly's Kingsguard.”

“Yes.” Brienne tightened her lips. 

He leaned closer and his hand rested on Brienne's cheek. “You're right. If I care about you, I should not hurt you.” Intense emotions filled his eyes. 

Jaime angled his head and Brienne realized he was moving in to kiss her. She placed a hand on his chest. “Do not,” she said.

He huffed a sigh and took a step away. Brienne left her hand on his chest. Part of her wanted him to resist her request, to take her even in protest. Her breath quickened a bit at thought of it. Maybe he somehow knew what she thought of. Jaime reached his hand to hers again, clasped it and raised it to his lips to kiss. She shivered at his kiss. Her hands were not delicate or soft, not the hands of a lady. Brienne cupped his cheek with her hand and felt the slight tickle of whiskers. She actually wished for the return of his rough beard. Jaime turned his head and kissed her palm. 

“You deserve more than being taken with anger, Brienne.” Jaime kissed her palm again and sighed, his breath warm on her skin. “You deserve a much better man than me.”

Brienne frowned. He did not say, 'give your love to another,' but the hint of those words were in his. “What other man would want me?” 

None other had ever looked at her the way he does, had ever touched her the way he had. Whether she deserved better or not, would she find it? Her other option was to walk away and be alone. That was what she'd chosen for herself at sixteen at the breaking of her last betrothal. 

Jaime nodded. “All other men are clearly fools.” 

“Did you not just call yourself a fool?” Brienne tilted her head and a smile tweaked her lips. 

“I did.” He smiled at that. “Clearly a different kind though.” 

Dusk was setting and the wind off the sea had chilled. “Let's go get some food,” Jaime said. “Somewhere where I don't have to see a damned Lannister. My quarters maybe.”

He pushed off the wall and offered her his hand. Brienne looped her arm around his and let him lead her like a lady. In the growing dark she might have even felt like one. 

They dinned alone, just the two of them. He'd taken off his gold hand, to spare the tableware, he'd said. The stub of his right arm flung as he told her stories. He seemed to only pick good ones, and told them with a smile or smirk on his face, stories of summer and knights of valor, funny stories of his childhood. On his begging she told stories too, although she had few happy ones. She told him about Tarth, about her father, a few about King Renly's camp and his showy take on being a king. She knew now the truth that Renly was likely not to win any war as much as his followers played instead of fought. 

A carafe of wine sat on the table, but she was not sure either of them had more than a glass. Perhaps after the night of the tavern neither of them trusted each other together with wine. But, they did not talk about it, and in many ways Brienne was glad. She'd rather just share in his company, more memories to have when she left King's Landing to find the Stark girls. 

The night finally dwindled to an end, and they both seemed bittersweet about it. The candles had burned low and the remainder of the food had grown cold. 

“I don't have many friends, Brienne.” Jaime shrugged. “Tyrion, perhaps. Men fear me and respect me and hate me, but they don't befriend me.”

Brienne sat, lips tight. She had no friends either. Neither women or men knew what to make of her. She would say she was lonely, except she'd gotten used to it only being her. “Nor do I have friends,” she finally managed. 

“You have me.” The tug of a smile did not reach his eyes. 

“Do I?” Brienne tilted her head. “Are we only friends?” 

“You have me, but no,” Jaime said, shaking his head, “we are more than friends.” 

Jaime did drink down the last of his half full wine glass now. His eyes looked angled at the tabletop. “If Cersei would have me back, I would have her. I'm sorry, I should not. You're the better choice, but I would.”

“Because you love her?” Brienne's voice cracked. 

Jaime raised his eye to look at her. “Because I need her. She's always been my other half.” He sighed. “You don't need anyone, Brienne.”

“How do you know that?” Tears filled her eyes even though she fought it. Just because she had learned to live without people did not mean she did not need them. 

That silenced him. Tears filled his own eyes. “I'm sorry, Brienne, so sorry.” He reached his right arm across the table to her hand, perhaps forgetting about his missing hand. What anger Brienne held at the wrongness of his words stilled at his paused movement, at the frustrated look he gave his missing hand. 

He looked back to her face. “You deserve the truth from me.” 

Brienne was not going to thank him for that. Whatever he felt for her, whatever he would ever feel for her, would never be enough to break Cersei's hold on him. While it was nice to hear it from his own lips, she had been a fool to ever think otherwise. 

“Goodnight, Jaime.” Brienne pushed back her chair and stood. 

“Brienne.” He stopped her and took her hand in his. They paused there, near his door, words seeming to have failed Jaime. “I'm sorry I ruined an otherwise nice dinner.”

Brienne looked back at the table and thought about the smiles and laughter from the last few hours. “Yes, it was otherwise a nice dinner.” They were memories she would treasure she knew. She tilted her head. “Goodnight.” She pulled her hand from his to exit the room. 

In the hallway, her heart pounded and she let out a long sigh. 'We don't get to choose who we love,' he had told her once. Brienne cursed that the gods had made her love a man who cared for her but loved another more. It was a cruel joke having Jaime close, yet not reachable.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was written for the tv version and if I was going to do season 4 canon Brienne/Jaime I kinda needed to mention the Jaime/Cersei scene. Because I do not think he would not tell Brienne in this story. While the actions in the scene looked consensual, Cersei's words were not. I'm going with her words changed after the camera stopped and that there was more in her actions showing Jaime her words were perhaps purposely not truthful. But, I also think even if Brienne doesn't like Cersei she'd completely be asking him about rape from what he told her.


	5. "Let me leave you with something more."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jaime smiled slightly at that and took a step towards Brienne. “Let me show you more of what a man and woman can be together. Leave you with more than groping on the damn practice yard.”

Jaime had asked her to the White Tower. There she stood reading through the book of the past Kingsguard, the stories going back ages, the noble and valiant knights from tales of her childhood. She now knew those were mainly tales and behind them had been complex men and as much falsehoods as truth. When she finally turned to Jaime's own page it had been so very empty. He was more than the few words contained on it, and she hoped that he was right and there would be more to add. 

He presented her the sword. She had never before held valyrian steel. It was well made, ornately decorated with lions in red and gold. There was something noble to giving her a reforged piece of Ice to help protect the Stark girls. Then the armor, well made and a beautiful sheen of blue metal. She did not ask how much it would have cost, much more than the old set she'd lost in the Riverlands. She did not say it was too much, though she thought it was. 

“One more gift?” Brienne tilted her head and wondered exactly what the glint in his eyes might be about. 

“It's outside with a horse. First, you can change into the armor in my room.” Jaime replaced the sword in a sheath with matching belt as ornate as the hilt of the sword itself. “I have a wool jerkin there to go under it.” Together they managed to take the armor back to his room, just one story downstairs. 

Instead of standing outside, as Brienne thought he might, Jaime waited inside the room. She eyed him, then cocked her head. She had no intention of changing clothes before him. “Oh,” Jaime finally said with a shy smile. He gestured again to the jerkin and matching pants and then turned his back to her. 

Brienne tightened her lips and accepted it would be good enough. The wool was course and thick, a blue that matched the armor. “Blue?” she asked. 

“It's Tarth's color, right?” Jaime said, back still turned. “Besides, you look good in blue, brings out your eyes and compliments your skin well.”

Brienne cast his back a look, and began to change her clothes. “Come with me,” she asked before she thought about the words. She missed it being just them. She'd like to again travel the realm with Jaime at her side. It would be lonely making it on her own, though she could manage. 

He sighed deeply. “I can't. They need me here, Tyrion, Cersei, Tommen. I... I can't.” Those words held enough doubt that Brienne reasoned he'd thought long and hard on going with her. 

“I understand.” She had little family, and if her father or Tarth needed her she would make a similar decision. In a way he was throwing gold at his oath and asking her to fulfill it. But, she did not mention that, because it was not as simple as such. 

“I will miss you,” Brienne said. 

Jaime glanced over his shoulder to smile at her, and caught her with the new wool pants only halfway up. His eyes lingered a moment too long on her bare thighs before he turned back away. “I will miss you too, Brienne.” 

He tapped his gold hand on a table in front of where he stood. “Cersei is back to not talking to me,” he said. “Because I would not kill Tyrion, my own brother, for her. 

“Her moods are changing,” Brienne said. Although mostly Cersei's moods seemed bitter or angry.

“She accused me of being a Stark sympathizer last night.” He shook his head, back still to Brienne. “Asked me to bring her Sansa's head.”

Brienne tightened her lips. “I am sorry, Jaime.” He did not mention it, but she reasoned it was difficult for him to have told his sister no, twice. 

He sighed and glanced over his shoulder again. This time Brienne was mostly clothed as she pulled the new jerkin over her shoulders and the undertunic she wore. His gaze on her sent desire spreading through her. She felt her nipples harden and wondered how much they might show. Jaime turned more and his eyes drifted down to her chest. His breathing shifted and Brienne swallowed. She resisted covering her breasts with her hands. 

“We might never see each other again,” Jaime said. 

Brienne frowned. “Hopefully the gods will see that we do meet again.” She hated the thought that she could live her life never seeing him again. 

He smiled slightly at that and took a step towards her. “Let me show you more of what a man and woman can be together. Leave you with more than groping on the damn practice yard.”

She tilted her head and stilled. “I will not yield my maidenhead.”

He nodded. “Of course. I don't mean to take it, but... I can give you other things.” 

Brienne tightened her lips. Her heart already pounded in her heart at thoughts of what he might mean. Jaime stepped closer. He raised his hand and slid it up her side, then cupped her breast. It fit his hand almost perfectly and her nipple hardened further against his palm. Brienne couldn't stop the grasp that escaped her lips. Jaime smirked at that. Brienne frowned, but gripped Jaime's neck and tugged his face to hers. 

She wasn't sure who was more responsible for starting their kiss. Unlike their previous night this kiss held familiarity. Her lips parted and let his tongue explore her mouth. Desire pooled in her belly, so much stronger now that she knew something about what pleasure could be reached from it. 

Jaime kneaded her right breast with his hand. Brienne found herself arching her back to get closer to his touch. He dipped his head and took the other breast into his mouth. He pulled at the pert nipple with his lips and teeth through the fabric of her undertunic. She moaned and tightened her lips to not do more. 

Jaime suckled her other breast and his hands untied the laces of her pants. 

“What are you doing?” Brienne asked. 

He'd lowered her pants down her thighs. He raised his head to look into her eyes again. “Trust me,” he said. 

Brienne noticed the same lust from their previous night, tempered now with sobriety. She should deny him what he wanted to do. Would it not only make it harder to leave, harder to forget him, harder when Cersei wished him back and he returned to her? But in the here and now she wanted him, and he clearly wanted her. She wanted whatever else he wanted to show her. 

So, Brienne nodded. “I trust you.”

#

Jaime might have actually sighed when she nodded and allowed him to continue. Patience had never been his strong suit. He hadn't needed it in such matters with Cersei since they were children. And gentleness was something he'd never used much with his sister. 

Brienne already had her boots off to change and Jaime bent to remove her pants and undershorts from her completely. He ran a hand up her leg from ankle to hip. Her legs were long and muscular but more shapely than one would think. 

Jaime backed her enough to sit on the end of his bed. She looked at him half with worry and half with lust. He leaned up and kissed her, deep and passionate. He thought about removing her undertunic. He'd like to see those small breasts as he did want he intended. But, he reasoned the less exposed the better. Besides he had promised not to fully bed her, and naked and willing on his bed it'd be hard to keep that promise. 

Instead, Jaime ended the kiss and knelt before Brienne. His hand ran up the inside of one of her legs, the skin silky on his fingertips. Brienne looked down at him with curiosity. She let him part her enough so he knelt between her long thighs, pale and shapely. He'd think of those thighs in the future, think of how they could part to ride him, wrap around him as he fucked her. 

Gently his fingers opened her folds, wet with her desires already. He rubbed her clit, watched as she gasp. Her eyes remained on him, his eyes, his hand. She wanted to see this as well, and that further hardened his already aching cock. He inserted one finger, then another, pushed them in and drew them slowly back out. Brienne's hand fell to his shoulder, her nails dug into the flesh. 

Jaime slowly fucked her with his fingers, in and out, in and out, what his cock wanted to do to her. Then, he dipped his head. He kissed up the inside of her left thigh. The skin as silky on his tongue as it had been on his fingertips. Brienne moaned above him, her hand clenched on his shoulder. Finally he came to where he wanted to be. While his fingers continue fucking her, Jaime flicked his tongue on her clit. She groaned and bucked her hips. Jaime smirked against her. 

He placed his mouth on her clit and sucked the tiny nub of flesh there, swollen and slick. The blonde curled hairs of her sex tickled his nose. Her juices smelt musky. His hand still worked her and he matched the pace with his mouth. 

Jaime slid his eyes up to look at her. She'd given up on watching him. She leaned back propped up on one arm, head thrown back, eyes closed, moans escaped her thick lips. That would provide a nice memory for when she was away. 

Brienne's hand moved to his head and gripped his hair. She held him against her sex. The movements of her hips against his mouth and hand pushing him to her wasn't graceful or measured but desperate and needy. Jaime found his own hips bucking, hard cock still in his pants. If he had another hand he'd dip it to match her writhing on his mouth and against his fingers. 

He bent his fingers and knew from her frantic movements he'd found that place that could drive her desires even higher. She mumbled his name above him. He felt her inner muscles clench around him, felt her juices increase. He watched as a muffled shrill scream escaped her throat. Her hips bucked. Mouth open, eyes clenched closed as she thundered to her release. Jaime slowed his movements as hers slowed and stilled. He had said it before, but there was something glorious in her release, something strong and vulnerable and commanding in it. 

Jaime finally lifted his head, pulled out his fingers. He couldn't resist licking the last of her from his hand. Brienne stirred and rolled her head to the side. She gave a breathy sigh. Her hand slipped to rest on his shoulder. Finally her eyes opened, wide and blue and sated. 

He thought she was going to comment, say his name again perhaps. Instead she pulled him up into a deep kiss, her strong arms wrapped around him. He saw her flushed cheeks, heard her breathing steady. It took almost all he had to not thrust his cock against her. 

She pulled back and angled her head. “You didn't reach your pleasure,” she stated. 

“What would I have done so with?” He didn't move his gold hand resting to the side of her bare thigh. She only glanced at it, she'd likely been able to feel the coldness of the metal already. 

“Good.” She actually smirked then. Jaime lifted an eyebrow. “Sit,” she told him. 

Jaime shifted and did so as Brienne slipped off the bed and knelt before him now, still bare from the waist down. She reached up and undid the fastenings of his leather jerkin and pushed it off his arms. It shouldn't surprise him she knelt tall enough to manage that with little trouble. Then he lifted his undertunic so she could see him bare from the waist up. Only fair, he thought, for her to see him. 

Jaime opened his legs for her to move between them. Brienne paused a moment at the laces of his pants, pulled taunt with his cock inside. 

“You don't have to,” he said. 

“Don't you think I wish to leave you with more to remember me by?” She looked up at him with open blue eyes. 

There was a nervousness to her and a sureness beneath. How exactly was he going to deny her willingly doing this? He wanted it, her hand or her mouth, just her in whatever way she wished to take him to his release. Jaime swallowed and nodded. 

She undid his laces, pulled his pants open to free his straining cock. She looked at it for a moment, studying it. There were larger men, but Jaime wanted to say it was more what it could do than size that mattered. Brienne reached out a hand and traced a finger from the tip to the base and back to the tip. She circled the tip and Jaime couldn't help bucking his hips. 

#

“Careful of that part,” he said. It surprised her how much control Jaime still had to even say that. 

Brienne had never really seen a hardened cock up this close. The flesh jutted from a mess of dark gold curls between his legs. The normally wrinkled skin pulled taunt, the tip glistened with a single pearl of wetness. His cock leaned just a bit to the side. Beneath, partially buried in his pants, lay his balls, pink and covered with a light coating of the same hair. 

Brienne wrapped a hand around his cock and pumped it from the base to the tip and back again. It was as she had caught other men doing to themselves. She'd never done this before and hoped she'd please him properly. 

“Twist as you do that.” This time Jaime's voice came out strained. 

Her eyes looked up to meet his. She nodded again and did as he'd asked, twisting as she stroked him. Jaime moaned. She realized she could likely give him release by only her hand. But, she meant to do other things, more, to give him what he had her. 

Brienne dipped her head. Would his cock feel as velvety on her mouth as her hand? She knew people did this. She'd heard enough men talking to know they liked this, some perhaps as much as sex. Brienne paused, her mouth hovering near the tip of Jaime's cock. Her heart pounded and nervousness fluttered in her belly. Finally, she leaned closer and reached out her tongue to lick the tip. 

“The slit there,” Jaime said. She did as suggested and flicked her tongue against the slit at the top of his cock. “And the vein down the outside.” 

How could he have so many words right now? She saw the quiver of desires that ran through him in his taunt abdominals, shaking arms. She did as asked and ran her tongue down his length and back up again. She raised her eyes to watch him. He'd dipped his head forward, eyes half closed and heavy with desire as they watched her actions. His hand clenched his thigh beside her head. Did he not want to do as she had and fist his hand in her hair? Or did he want to do so and didn't want to trap her too close to him?

Brienne repeated those actions a few times. Her tongue flicked and licked the slit at the tip of Jaime's cock, then it ran up and down the full length of him. Jaime moaned at her actions, but was otherwise still. It made her wonder if perhaps she was doing it wrong. 

That made her bold enough to take him fully in her mouth. She leaned forward further and settled her mouth above the tip. Then she slid her mouth partially down his cock until the tip and beyond had been swallowed. She drew back and repeated the action, taking his cock a bit more fully in her mouth. Then again, this time until the tip reached the back of her throat. 

“Use you hand on the base,” Jaime said, words strangled. 

She looked up to see his cheeks flushed, his breathing harsh. While he still held himself still, he was enjoying this. Part of her wanted to make him come undone, for him to buck his hips into her mouth, for his cock to fuck her mouth as she had fucked his fingers. 

Brienne wrapped her hand around the base of his cock. He was right, between her hand and mouth she covered his length. She moved herself up him and back down. “Twist,” he breathed. Of course, as before, she thought. She twisted her mouth and her hand as she moved up and down, up and down on his hard cock. She began to suck in her cheeks as she took him in, squeeze her hand at the same time. Jaime began to rock his hips into her actions, give breathy moans of his enjoyment. His hand moved to the back of her head and rested there. 

When she had down how to manage a good and steady pace, her other hand opened his pants enough to slip inside. She cupped his balls. 

“Gentle,” he managed. 

Brienne lessened her grip until his balls just sat in her palm. With the pace of her mouth and other hand she squeezed ever so gentle, then released. Jaime's hips rocked more and faster. Brienne shifted her pace to match him. His hand, still laid flat on her head, held her to him.

“Gods, Brienne, gods.” He mumbled out her name, breathless and harsh. “There's a spot.” He swallowed, moaned. “Back of the balls.” A thrust into her mouth, deep moan. “That you can be hard with.” He thrust again and hit his cock to the back of her throat. Brienne widened her mouth to take him in further. Flattened her tongue until it wrapped around the underside of his cock with each thrust. 

Her hand slid behind his balls and she pushed a bit at the flesh there. “There,” Jaime breathed in response. Brienne rubbed that spot and then pushed upwards into it. 

Jaime mumbled her name, moaned and growled. His hand fisted in her hair finally. He thrust into her open mouth. She abandoned her own pace to open her mouth further, wrap her tongue around him, wrap and kneed her hand on the base of his cock as he slid it in and out of her mouth. Her other hand pressed deeper beyond his balls. He fucked her mouth, and it wettened her again, the image of the same actions working inside her private places. 

She looked up at him, wanted to see what he looked like as he finished. His breath came harsh. His eyes were scrunched closed, a look of abandonment and recklessness coated his features. 

“Brienne,” he managed to say. “I'm going to...”

His hand slacked on her head. While his hips still thrust into her mouth, he allowed her to move away. She realized he was close and wanted her off him to spill his seed out of her. Brienne shook her head into his thrusting cock. She wanted to finish this, to taste him fully, to be a part of his release. 

Whether Jaime understood or just couldn't hold out longer, she wasn't sure. He bucked one last time. He growled and his eyes opened to catch hers looking at him. She felt him thicken and then his seed jetted from his cock into her mouth. Brienne pulled back and swallowed down all she could manage, the taste salty and musky. The remainder spilled from her lips. 

“You didn't have to,” he whispered, as Brienne pulled back to sit on her haunches. 

“I know.” 

He used the hem of his undertunic to wipe off the last of his seed from her face. “Don't ask, because I did really enjoy that.”

Brienne smirked. “I could tell.” 

He chuckled and he seemed impressed she hadn't fallen back into her guarded self. Brienne wondered after today if she could ever again be so guarded with him, especially in private. 

“Let's finally get you into this armor.” Jaime rose to his feet and laced up his pants. “There's people waiting for us. I hadn't meant... to delay us so.” He slipped his undertunic back on and shrugged into his jerkin. 

“Delay us?” Brienne scoffed. “Is that what you call it?” She rose as well, and realized her legs were still bare. She thought of telling Jaime to turn around again, but he'd nestled between them bare already, what did she have to hide? Instead, she pulled on her undershorts and new pants, lingering long enough for his eyes to take in a view of her one last time. 

Between the two of them the armor took little time to outfit her in. It did fit well. It had been narrowed enough at the waist and widened just enough at the breast. While she did not look much a lady in it, it fit her tightly. He did not have to say how he approved as she stood wearing it, and she did not have to voice how much she appreciated being armored again. 

“Jaime.” She paused as they made to leave, his hand on the door handle. 

“What?” He turned to her, questions in his eyes. 

“Thank you,” she whispered. 

“For?” Jaime cocked his head. 

Brienne swallowed. “For letting me have you for a moment.” How did she explain how these last few days had been so important, would be remembered no matter how their lives went from here? And she knew these moments were all she would had. Cersei would ask for him back and he would return, as he had said he would. 

He frowned. “You deserve more.”

“Perhaps.” She tightened her lips. Because perhaps she did deserve better, but when had life ever given her what she might have deserved? 

He stepped closer to her and reached up to cup her head in his hand. “I'm sorry.” He frowned. Then, he kissed her deep and full and passionately, a kiss of goodbye, a kiss to take away in case she never received another from him. They parted and Jaime opened the door, and that would be it between them.

#

Jaime stood and watched Brienne's horse carry her away. Perhaps he should have kissed her goodbye before she mounted, but before Bronn and Podrick neither of them seemed able to manage. It was not that he wished them to be a secret. Just that both were too private to want to share and explain. Ever stoic Brienne, if there had been other words she wanted to tell him, none had passed her lips as they parted. 

Goodbye wasn't a big enough word, but he'd had no others. 'I could fall for you. I could love you. You could make me happy.' He couldn't give her any of those, even if every one was true. He could no longer say he had been with only one woman in his life, because whether he'd properly fucked Brienne or not, he'd been with her today. He still wasn't sure what to make of it. Given how life went, the departing blue armor in the distance might be the last time he'd ever see Brienne, and he could push her from his thoughts. Somehow Jaime knew that wasn't going to happen. She'd changed him too much, made him reconsider too much. Whether he ever saw Brienne again or not she would remain close to his thoughts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> End of season 4 added scenes. Thanks for those that read and enjoyed it. Always nice to share your versions of what could happen between characters with other. 
> 
> I have another similar story for season 3 I'm working on. And I'd like to see Jaime and Brienne together, and happier than this ending. But I need to wrap my head around how to make that happen realistically post season 6.


End file.
